"At ease. What's your name?" #7 asked.
CD-428 stopped saluting and replied, "My name is fifty-five thousand four hundred twenty-nine or CD-428, I also go by Bam-bam or #8 for short.
CD-428 didn't know what it was, maybe it was the title the Slig carried, but CD-428 wanted to please #7. CD-428 was pretty sure he would do anything for his, hopefully, new boss.
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When no one followed Doe into the grinding station and into his traps the Mudokon warrior sighed. "I shouldn't of let myself get exposed like that." The Mudokon thought to himself, "I guess I need this after all."
The Mudokon rubbed off his war make-up and took out a small brown bag attached to his spunky orange loin-cloth. Inside the bag was a Scrub outfit scuffed with sand and dirt, the Mudokon put the outfit on. Doe hid his belongings including his club close to a grinder, rigging a trap to stop anyone from finding it and living.
Hoping to confuse pursuers Doe went up the stairs to the upper grinding area and exited on to the second floor. Walking down the halls keeping to the shadows Doe made it to the stairs on the opposite side of the second floor and went down them entering the first floor.
Doe stumbled out the stair way and in front of the R&R, the new plan was to get employed and spy with the perfect disguise. Without the war paint and the orange loin cloth no one would be able to recognize him as the Native Mudokon, or so he hoped.
Doe walked towards a small gathering of Sligs and Mudokons and went up to the dark-skinned Mudokon. With a practiced industrial accent Doe asked anyone nearby, "Excuse me I'm new here, where can I get a job?"
Doe laughed maleficently inside his mind, predicting the doom of all industrial scum.
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The small fuzzle followed the veteran Paramite into Rupture Farms. "Where are we now exactly?" Alexander II asked, then slowly added, "If you don't mind telling me."
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